


Something

by noel_108



Category: Lost
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Lost - Freeform, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25419682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noel_108/pseuds/noel_108
Summary: Sayid grew distant after Shannon died, you decide to show some compassion.
Relationships: Sayid Jarrah & Hugo Reyes, Sayid Jarrah/Charlie Pace, Sayid Jarrah/OC, Sayid Jarrah/Original Female Character(s), Sayid Jarrah/Reader, Sayid Jarrah/Shannon Rutherford
Kudos: 12





	Something

After Shannon died, there wasn’t any attempt from the survivors to console or even interact with Sayid. Barely anyone had talked to him beforehand, but now it was if they all actively avoided him. Even Hurley and Charlie, people you had assumed were his friends. Sayid had gone to Charlie and expressed that he would be there for him, yet Charlie didn’t reciprocate. Maybe no one knew how. You didn’t. But even an attempt would be better than simply ignoring the guy. So you didn’t ignore him now, after you were told he’d tried to kill the artist formerly known as Henry Gale, as Sawyer called him. Sayid looked… blank. Not even angry anymore, just blank. He looked to you as you drew closer. And closer. And closer still. Suddenly your arms were wrapping around him and he shuffled backwards just slightly.  
Sayid: “What… are you doing? What… What are you doing?”  
He was warm.  
Sayid breathed out: “Stop. S...”  
You shushed him softly. His breath was quick, sharp inhales. Slowly, it calmed. He closed his eyes and you felt hesitant arms around you. He set his head against yours and you could hear his breath start to shake after a moment. And suddenly there was a valiant effort on his part not to cry. It didn’t work. You suddenly understood that the loner might not want to be so distant from the rest of the survivors. The guy really needed a hug. He cried softly, head hanging down into your shoulder. 

You became some sort of comfort to him. He would lean on you sometimes, you’d put a hand on his shoulder if he looked especially sad. Hurley had reached out, which helped, especially with what Sawyer had said. You’d broken the stunned silence of the camp with ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’, which Sawyer had simply brushed over. Now, Sayid walked up to you and took your hand in his. He touched his nose to the side of your head.  
Sayid: “I need…”  
He sighed and leaned his forehead where his nose had been.  
Sayid: “I just… I need… something.”  
“Sayid…”  
You looked at him. His expression didn’t match his breathing in the least. He just looked sad. Really, really sad. He pressed against you, still holding your hand, looking into your eyes. His other hand took your face and he kissed you. Slowly, unsurely. You put a hand on his chest and pulled away.  
Sayid: “Just… something.”  
There’s a moment of you looking to him with visible pity.  
“Are you sure?”  
He nodded and pressed against you again, slowly touching his lips to your jaw.

It was quick, though it wasn’t the fastest you’d had. The two of you were suddenly all over each other. Tongues, teeth, lips, hands, legs, hips, and chests. Intimate, passionate, needing, but it wasn’t loving. It wasn’t even about you, it was just… something. He’d been explicit about the fact it was just something, and you took no offense. It was nice, though. He was nice.  
It happened in Shannon's tent, which was… unconventional, to say the least. Maybe it was so he could pretend you were her. He could, for a few moments, as long as he closed his eyes. He’d only had sex with her once, after all. But you were shorter than her and you didn’t make quite the same sounds. You didn’t run your nails over his skin, just barely leaving marks that he’d found after she’d stormed away. He almost didn’t remember that you weren’t on birth control. Probably Shannon's fault. She’d been hoarding it.  
And then it was done and you’d both thrown almost all your clothes back on because cuddling naked would be far too personal. You kept your jeans off and he kept his shirt. You were pressed against the side of him, partially on top of him, one hand on his chest and your other arm wedged between your bodies because although no one talks about it, it’s always difficult to know where your second arm was supposed to be. One of your legs was on one of his, your other foot touching his. He wasn’t cuddling back, just staring upwards. You pulled yourself over him and he looked to you blankly.  
“You alright?”  
He nodded once. You kissed his cheek before laying back down. You lay there for maybe two minutes, not letting yourself start to give into the tiredness. You didn’t think this would last. You were right. He picked up your arm from across his chest and moved out from under you. You lay on your back as he sat up, hands covering his face before he pressed them together in front of his mouth. You sat crossed legged after a long moment, then scooted next to him. You gingerly touched a hand to his back and leaned over to find his eyes. You sighed through your nose, then leaned your head on his shoulder. You moved to kiss him there.  
“Do you want me to go?”  
He said nothing. You waited for a few long moments.  
“I’m gonna go, unless you want me to stay.”  
You kissed his shoulder again before grabbing your jeans. By the time you’d put them on, Sayid was crying. You only noticed when he sniffled, forcing back tears.  
“Hey.”  
He turned away.  
“Hey.”  
You pulled him close, now back at his side. He leaned into you after a moment, accepting he couldn’t stop the tears. You didn’t know it, but this was a guy who’d lost everything. Every good thing he’d ever had was taken from him. He believed it was his fault. That Shannon had been killed just so the world could spite him. Punish him for everything he’d done. Even if he wasn’t thinking cosmically, it was still his fault. He could’ve tried harder to stop her. Could’ve said something different. Maybe if he hadn’t tripped. Maybe if he hadn't frozen. If he had just run after her, he could’ve stopped it. He could’ve had the chance to hear her say it. At least he got to tell her.  
He sobbed softly, and it was weird to think the seemingly stoic soldier could cry like this. He really didn’t cry enough, and it had only made the mess of his mind worse. You were happy to be a safe space, though you weren’t sure why he’d grown attached specifically to you. As horrible as it was, you almost liked it. Not the circumstances, but the friendship of sorts that had grown stronger from it. Even if you were just something for him, you were glad to accept the role.


End file.
